Resurrection

Visions

Death’s breath sweats through me
in wisps of frozen broken needles
that linger in amongst the bed sheets
pulled damp against my throat
like morning cemeteries.

But  I have seen her calculations
writ on the tombs of widowed pillows
and I shall ask her what her name is
and she will wring her hands in mourning
in empty cemeteries.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s